# Chapter 17: A House Full of Fairy Lights and Hidden Heartbreak
Hello everyone, it's me again! How are you all doing? Today I will continue to walk with you and review Chapter 17 of "Married at first swipe free digital audiobook." Now, my dear listeners, fasten your seatbelts, because this chapter takes us right into the heart of Hannah and Toby's brand-new marriage — and I can promise you, it is a night filled with laughter, longing, fairy lights, and one confession that changes absolutely everything.
When we last left Hannah, she had just shared dinner with her best friend Jess, who was pouring out her heart about troubles in her own marriage with Tom. And now, making her way home with a head full of mixed feelings, Hannah cannot shake the unease settling deep in her bones. You see, if Jess — perfect, successful, has-it-all-together Jess — was struggling to keep her marriage afloat, then what on earth did that mean for Hannah? She had been married for exactly two weeks, and she had already managed to truly annoy her husband. Not exactly the fairytale start she'd imagined.
The trouble had begun earlier when she'd cancelled their first proper date as a married couple back in Manchester. Rather than facing Toby like a grown-up, she'd done it via text — and yes, she knew that made her a bit of a coward. She couldn't exactly tell him that Jess was having marriage troubles over a message, could she? So she'd simply said she needed to catch up with her best friend after being away. It sounded lame to her own ears, and Toby's reply had been… well, a touch passive-aggressive:
*Oh, that's a real shame. I was looking forward to it and had booked us a nice restaurant in town. I'll need to cancel that ASAP so I don't get charged.*
Ouch. She'd tried to appease him, suggesting the same restaurant the following night — but of course, it was booked up. In desperation, she'd offered to cook for him instead, mentally bracing herself for a morning of cleaning and an afternoon of slaving over her tiny kitchen stove. But his response had been surprisingly gracious, even warm: why didn't she come over to his place instead, and he'd cook for her, saving her the trouble of a hot stove all day — especially if she and Jess were going to have a few bottles of wine.
Hannah had readily agreed, though she couldn't shake the feeling that the wine mention was another little dig. She hoped she was reading too much into it. The truth was, she didn't really know Toby at all. They had spent almost all their time together in an idyllic St Lucian bubble, where the hardest decision of the day was choosing between a fish restaurant and a barbecue joint. Now they were back in the cold, grey reality of Manchester, and as her brother used to say — shit had very much got real.
Lying in bed that night, she idly twisted the wedding band around her finger. Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours. Too many seconds to compute in her head. It felt like both a lifetime and the blink of an eye. And yet, this was meant to be just the beginning of potentially forty or fifty years together. *Fifty years.* She could barely imagine being married for fifty days, let alone fifty years. It wasn't that she didn't like Toby — what she'd learned of him so far had been genuinely lovely, apart from those slightly sulky texts. But the thought of a lifetime stretching out before them… well, it was crazy. She realised now that although she had been the one to suggest the whole blind-date wedding idea, she hadn't really thought about what came after. After the excitement, the anticipation, the sheer wildness of it all died down. Her intention had always been to find the kind of forever love her grandparents had shared. She just wasn't sure what that looked like, day to day, now that she was actually married.
And how much did she really know about her grandparents' love story, anyway? Only what they'd chosen to tell her. What about the hard moments — when Gramps had left the army damaged but alive, how had they navigated those first difficult months? And when they'd uprooted their lives for his new job, starting again with a small baby in a new town, how had they managed? Hannah thought about all those Sunday afternoons she'd spent with them as a girl — baking, or going on what Gramps called "an improving walk" through the park. Her own parents never held hands when out together, but Gramps would reach for G-ma's hand the moment they left the house, even just to pop to the corner shop for secret sweets. It was those small gestures that Hannah remembered most — the way they'd catch each other's eyes and smile when telling stories of their courtship. And it was Gramps who had planted the seed of wanderlust in Hannah's young heart, talking about his army days and all the places he wished he'd returned to in peacetime.
When Gramps died, seeing her grandma crumble had utterly devastated Hannah. For years, G-ma had been a shadow of her former self, unable even to say her husband's name. But gradually she had learned to live with her loss, growing in confidence, partly due to her dutiful daughter Joan. And somewhere along the way, G-ma had become Hannah's biggest champion — supporting her travels, offering sage advice, always grounding her no matter how far from home she roamed. Even when Hannah FaceTimed her from a beach house in Argentina, surrounded by shrieking friends and the promise of a night out, G-ma would bring her back down to earth with her quiet wisdom.
Feeling a pang of guilt, Hannah resolved to call her grandma the very next day and arrange for her to meet Toby properly. She fell asleep clutching her blanket, dreaming of her grandparents' house, the smell of a real fire, and Frank Sinatra crooning softly from the ancient tape player in the corner.
The next day, despite having hours to prepare for dinner at Toby's, Hannah found herself in a complete flap by the time she left her flat. She'd tried a cute vest top under a bargain pink cashmere jumper from the charity shop — too big, kept slipping off her shoulder. Paired with a denim skirt she'd been meaning to donate, she stared at herself in the mirror and decided it was definitely too short, even with thick tights. She wriggled out of it. A ditzy floral dress? Too summery. Classic jeans and a nice top? Far too safe. Back to the super-short skirt, then.
"Fuck it!" she swore loudly at her reflection, glancing at her watch. "Fine, this will have to do. You were going for a 'maybe it's time to consummate our marriage' vibe after all."
She and Toby hadn't discussed the physical side of their relationship at all. They'd done their interview for *North West Tonight*, and although the presenter had probed them on that very topic, they'd both deftly steered her away. Toby had been so nervous in front of the cameras that it had actually calmed Hannah — one of them had to be composed, after all. Jess had been there, giving thumbs-ups from the wings, and afterwards had declared Hannah a natural on screen. But the whole experience seemed to have spooked Toby away from further press opportunities. A request from *Cosmo* for a photoshoot and interview had come through, and Jess was keen, but only if both were on board. Hannah had been asked to sound Toby out, but she already knew not to hold out much hope.
Tonight, though, Hannah was hoping they wouldn't just be *talking* about their sex life. Tonight was the night, she'd decided, despite Jess's gentle warnings not to rush into anything. So what if she didn't exactly have intense, rip-your-clothes-off feelings for him yet? Sleeping together would cement things between them — make everything less awkward. The more they acted like husband and wife, the more they'd feel it. Surely that was how it worked?
She stared at herself in the mirror and realised with horror that she'd almost forgotten to swap her greying, seen-better-days underwear for the pretty push-up bra and lacy-but-not-scratchy knickers she'd dug out from the back of her drawer. Finally, she was ready — barely a minute to brush her hair, slather on concealer and foundation, chuck her lipstick in her bag, shove on ankle boots, shrug into her coat, and thunder downstairs. At the last minute, she ran back up for her toothbrush, then power-walked to the bus stop, grateful her coat was longer than her skirt, which was currently skimming her butt cheeks.
The bus driver, bless him, saw her running and waited. She thanked him profusely, wriggled her skirt down as delicately as possible, and flopped into a seat, attempting to compose herself while dabbing on powder and colour. Maybe if the bus gods were smiling down on her, the marriage gods would be too.
*It was at that exact moment she realised she'd left the fancy bottle of Waitrose wine on her kitchen counter.*
After alighting, the only shop still open that wasn't some artisanal coffee-and-wine emporium (their description, not hers) was the Co-op. She forked out a tenner on what she hoped was a decent red but was almost certainly an overpriced, vinegar-tasting, keep-at-the-back-of-the-cupboard abomination. Still, at least she'd tried.
When the phone finally told her she'd arrived, Hannah looked around at the smart terraced houses and large trees rustling in the evening breeze, and felt an immediate swell of gratitude that Toby had suggested his place rather than her scrappy rented flat. She knocked on the red front door, and before she'd even had chance to pat down her windblown hair, Toby was there.
He stood before her in perfectly fitted dark-blue jeans and a maroon jumper — cashmere, she knew without even touching it. Great minds clearly thought alike. They exchanged shy smiles for a beat before Toby quickly ushered her in.
"Hey, good to see you, Hannah."
"And you, Tobes — or should I say, husband?"
"God, it still feels weird, doesn't it?" he laughed. "I'm not sure when it'll properly sink in. Come in, let me take your coat. You look lovely tonight."
"Thanks!" she replied, tugging her skirt down as he relieved her of the only thing protecting her modesty. "You're not looking too bad yourself. That colour really suits you."
"So my sister told me when she forced me to go shopping with her a few months ago. Seriously, I'm not sure why she seemed to think just because I was single I had no idea how to dress myself."
"Well, she was right about the jumper, so I'm definitely not dissing her — and from what I've seen, she isn't someone who should ever be dissed, to be honest!"
"Ha! You're so right. Melissa may have a heart of gold, but she doesn't take kindly to being argued with, believe me. Can I get you a drink before the grand tour? There's prosecco? Or I have wine, beer..."
Prosecco it was. She handed him her Co-op contribution with an apologetic grimace, and he politely smiled and said it looked good. Their banter was light and easy as he poured the drinks, and before long, he was showing her around. The kitchen was "small but perfectly formed," as the estate agent had put it — Toby's wry humour on display. The living room, though, genuinely surprised her: a beautiful bay window, a period fireplace, a large sofa, a big telly, and shelves absolutely *groaning* under the weight of books. And fairy lights around the fireplace.
"Not nearly as bachelor pad-ish as I thought it might be," Hannah observed, delighted.
Toby coloured slightly, looking sheepish. "I'll blame Melissa. When I WhatsApp'd my mates asking how to make the place cosier, every single one of them replied 'cushions.' So I bought a couple. But when I asked Melissa, she immediately said 'fairy lights.' I didn't know if she was joking, but I took her at her word. Turns out John Lewis even sells Christmas tree lights in September. So now they're adorning my fireplace."
"They're cute!" Hannah laughed. "And I feel bad you thought you had to add these things just for me."
"I've actually become weirdly attached to them now," he chuckled. "God, this prosecco has gone straight to my head. Obviously nothing to do with being nervous about showing you my house."
"Christ, don't be nervous — you should see my flat!" She caught herself. "Actually, on second thoughts, let's not mention my flat for now. Shall I pour us some more prosecco and then you can show me upstairs? I mean — not in that way, obviously."
It was her turn to blush, and they both burst out laughing.
"Let's be honest," Toby said, leading the way. "This is a bit of a weird situation, and we're both likely to embarrass ourselves at every opportunity, so we should just go with it."
The upstairs was compact but practical, and Hannah smiled at the enormous pile of cushions on Toby's bed — and another pile in the spare room.
"There was a three-for-two offer, so obviously I bought six!" he explained.
The tour complete, they settled in the living room and ordered takeaway: green curry for Hannah — though she tried to show off by ordering it in Thai, which earned her a raised eyebrow and a rueful admission that she'd been "a bit of a knob trying to sound impressive." Toby took it all in good humour. Over dinner, they talked about adjusting to Manchester weather after Caribbean bliss, about returning to work, about Jess's endless curiosity about St Lucia. Toby admitted his team at work were colleagues more than true friends, and that being the boss meant they probably wouldn't dare ask too many awkward questions.
Hannah's gaze drifted to the photos on the wall — a group of twenty-somethings grinning, arms slung around each other in what she correctly identified as the Blue Mountains. And there, in that picture, a dark-haired girl leaning into Toby's chest. Hannah's stomach tightened. Could that be... the fiancée who had died so tragically? She pulled her gaze away quickly, before she could dwell too deeply.
Another photograph showed Toby with his family at what he explained was his great-aunt's funeral — a celebration of an eccentric life, judging by the bright blue dress Melissa wore and the fuchsia tie Toby's father clearly detested. And then, almost as an afterthought, Toby issued an invitation: would Hannah like to join him tomorrow in Warrington to see Melissa and Michaela?
"No, it's fine, I'm pretty free tomorrow, so yes, I'll come. It will be lovely to see Melissa again," Hannah said, meaning it. Toby's face lit up with such genuine pleasure that her heart softened a little more.
Later, full of pad Thai and green curry, Toby switched his playlist to something mellower. Michael Kiwanuka filled the room, and Hannah realised with a jolt that she didn't even know her husband's favourite band. "Which is a bit rubbish, since you're my husband," she admitted.
Toby confessed to being a musical magpie — Beatles and folk from his parents, indie in his teens, and now everything from jazz to classical to Billie Eilish. Hannah laughed at herself, admitting she spent half her life reliving atrocious early-noughties dance music and the other half trying to sound like she knew what the kids were listening to these days. She mentioned her stepsister Seraphina and her endless Katy Perry rotations and ridiculous dance crazes, and how when she'd tried to teach her Whigfield's "Saturday Night" dance, Seraphina had declared she'd "look like she was in the olden days."
"I guess the nineties are the equivalent of the olden days to kids today," Toby teased, earning a pretend glare.
"Ha! Well, you're even older than me, so that makes you ancient in Seraphina's eyes."
"I'm only, what, three years older than you? Which means if I'm ancient, you're peri-ancient, so there!"
"Rude!" Hannah snorted. "That's not how husbands should behave to their wives."
And then the air changed. Toby looked at her differently. *"How should husbands behave then?"* He moved closer, and she tilted her chin. The feel of his lips on hers was soft and still unfamiliar, a gentle exploration after so much distance. She melted into him, let his kiss deepen, until he slowly pulled away and grinned.
"Is that how husbands should behave?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe you should show me again," she teased.
It was Toby who broke away a second time, but only to confess he was "starting to get the hang of this husband thing." Their third kiss lost its delicacy entirely — hot, urgent, demanding. Hannah pulled off her jumper, and Toby's eyes widened at her strappy vest top and enhanced cleavage. She silently thanked the creator of the push-up bra. His hands roamed, found bare skin, and her heartbeat hammered as she pushed at his jumper, reached for his belt...
And then his hand caught hers, gently but firmly. His whole body went still, frozen solid.
Hannah stopped immediately. "Are you okay?" she asked, her breathing slowing.
"Yes. No. I'm sorry." Toby's voice was barely a whisper. "I just..."
"What is it?" She searched his eyes desperately for some explanation.
"I... I want you to know that I haven't been with anyone since... since Emma died."
Hannah froze. Her mind raced, but no words came. She was acutely aware that without her jumper, she had rather a lot on display.
Toby took a deep breath. "I guess I've just been waiting for the right person. For it to really mean something. So I wouldn't feel like I was dishonouring her, you know? But I don't want to stop, Han. I just wanted you to know the truth."
She tried to respond, but the words wouldn't come. *"Toby, I..."* She shuffled to the other end of the sofa and reached for her jumper, forcing her lips into a smile that she knew didn't reach her eyes. She watched confusion flicker across his face at her sudden retreat, but she couldn't stop herself. The weight of his confession, of Emma, of the enormous shadow that dead love cast over their brand-new marriage — it was all too much.
"We don't have to rush things," she said, her voice unnaturally bright. "We have the rest of our lives together, after all." A certainty she absolutely did not feel. "Look, it's late. I'll order an Uber."
"You're leaving? I didn't mean for you to go. I just thought I should be honest. I really do want to carry on, I was just—"
"Toby, it's fine, really. You don't have to explain yourself."
She fumbled with her phone, ordering the taxi while an awkward silence stretched between them like a physical thing. She stood by the window, waiting, staring again at those photographs — and couldn't help herself. Her eyes kept drifting back to the dark-haired girl leaning into Toby's chest in the Blue Mountains. She was shaken from her thoughts by Toby coming to stand beside her.
"Will you still come to Melissa's tomorrow?" he asked, biting his lip.
"Of course. Look, Toby, I know tonight has ended up being a bit weird. But I guess this whole thing *is* a bit weird, isn't it? I think we just need to feel our way through things as best we can and see what happens."
"Okay," he replied quietly. But his attempt at a reassuring smile never quite reached his eyes.
And as Hannah climbed into that Uber and watched his house disappear in the window behind her, she couldn't help but wonder whether she'd just made the biggest mistake of her life — or avoided making an even bigger one.
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## Reader's Impressions & Star Rating
Oh my goodness, my heart is genuinely racing after this chapter! There is something so achingly real about Hannah and Toby — two people who jumped into marriage with the best of intentions, only to discover that real life is so much messier than a honeymoon in St Lucia. Hannah's inner turmoil is beautifully rendered: her fears about forever, her memories of her grandparents' quiet, enduring love, her panic when Toby's confession about Emma brings the past crashing into the present. And poor Toby — earnest, sweet, desperately trying to do the right thing by being honest, and watching his wife retreat anyway. This chapter captures the fragile, terrifying first steps of a real relationship, with all its awkward silences and unspoken fears laid bare. The fairy lights, the cushions, the Co-op wine, the push-up bra — the small details make it so vividly real. A truly emotional, beautifully paced chapter that leaves you desperate to know what happens next.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.8 / 5 Stars
## Next Chapter Prediction
I predict that when Hannah meets Melissa and Michaela in Warrington, she'll be walking into far more than just a cosy family lunch. With Melissa as sharp as she clearly is, she's bound to notice the lingering tension between the brand-new couple — and I wouldn't be surprised if some candid sisterly wisdom (or possibly some gentle interference) is exactly what Toby needs to help him open up even more about Emma. Meanwhile, Hannah has some serious soul-searching to do: can she handle a husband whose heart still carries the ghost of a lost love? And with Jess's own marriage trouble simmering in the background, I sense a storm of big conversations and raw emotions brewing that could either make this unconventional marriage — or break it entirely!
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